


In Good Spirits

by chenria, IllusionaryEnnui



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 01:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3191108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chenria/pseuds/chenria, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllusionaryEnnui/pseuds/IllusionaryEnnui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long day of war council Estelle Trevelyan is joining Bull and his Chargers for a few drinks. And after a few too many, Cullen learns that the Inquisitor can be cute when she's drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Good Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> IllusionaryEnnui prompted me the following a while ago:
> 
> Dragon Age Prompting, Estelle: If Estelle joined The Iron Bull for drinks, how did she handle her liquor? What was everyone’s reactions? Did something happen during or after? (*chuckles* Yeah, this has been kicking around my head for Mara as well. I’m curious to see how your archer would be in the same situation.)
> 
> IllusionaryEnnui also helped me with beta-reading and some thoughts. Thank you so much for that ♥

Estelle rubbed her forehead as she left the main hall. Her eyes burned and her head throbbed as if something heavy pressed against it from all sides – as if she was wearing a helmet that was too tight. The day had been too long.

Outside, all was quiet. Only the chirping of some crickets reached her ears. Mountain air turned her breath into puffy clouds. But she needed to breathe, to settle. With the starlit sky above her, her great burden eased off her shoulders for a short moment.

Much of the day she spent in the war room with her advisors. Each offered very different ideas about what needed to be done, where they should send their troops and what places to scout.  All the wishes and requests brought before her were tough to handle. It was just not possible to give each and everyone their desired outcome. The Inquisition couldn’t just send troops to every little quarrel and she couldn’t afford to send a full entourage of ambassadors, guards and whatnot to every unimportant noble who believed the Inquisition should tremble in awe before them.

But the worst part was arguing with Cullen.

Admittedly, she was strict. She didn’t want the others to think she favored him now that they were more serious about their relationship. But even without that fact, she just couldn’t give in to many of his wishes. They had just not enough men for all the assignments.

At some point, she had pitied the poor quill he had held to make notes on his reports. By the end of the council, it wasn’t much more than a mere string. Annoyance hung around the commander, she had seen it. Lingering, it had bothered her as much to be only addressed as Inquisitor by him after the second request had been denied. Yes, that’s who she was. Her title, true.

Hardly a secret, their comrades knew well of their ties to one another. Gossip spread faster than wildfire - they could not hide it for very long. It was already common knowledge that the Commander and the Inquisitor spent most nights in her quarters. Although Estelle wished those nights proved as exciting as the gossip made them sound, often they merely spend it pouring over reports for which there had been no time during the day. For Cullen, it was easier to not spend the evenings alone. When the sun set, those were the moments when the withdrawal seemed the worst.

With a sigh, Estelle looked up and saw the light flickering in Cullen’s office. Still working – and brooding.

She had granted him new horses for his troops, better weapons... She knew he understood. But she still felt a pang of hurt when he fixed at her with discontent.

“Boss, what ya’ doing there all alone?!” A gruff voice called up to her and she turned around to Iron Bull. He stood at the foot of the stairs, a grin plastered over his lips. “Are you trying to get a cold or something?”

“Bull.” Estelle offered him a smile. “I was actually just wondering if I should just go to bed. It was a long day.”

“It was a dull day. No fighting.” The Qunari’s easy laugh rumbled against the old stone. “Come, join us in the Tavern! Me and the gang were just about to meet there.”

Hesitation held Estelle for only a moment.

“Sounds good.” The rogue sent one last glance over her shoulder towards the commander’s office. He would still be there when she returned, that she did not doubt. If he was so annoyed that she hadn’t granted him that one mission but had assigned it to Leliana’s spies instead, he would not be so kind to find her standing in his door.

 

\----------------------------------------------------

 

The tavern swarmed, warmer than outside. Noisier. Around her, the air weighed down with pipe-smoke and alcohol fumes. Estelle sat down next to Krem who instantly put a glass in front of here.

“Nice to see you around, Inquisitor,” he said with a cheerful voice.

“Thanks for the invitation.” Estelle chuckled but stopped when Bull poured some sort of spirit into her cup. “And... what is this? It smells as if it was meant to kill something.”

Together, Krem and Bull laughed as they held their mugs up to Estelle.

“On our success, Inquisitor,” Bull saluted, his tankard raised above his playful smirk.

With a worried frown, Estelle lifted her own cup and they drank together. It tasted like someone had poured hot iron into her throat. She coughed hard to breathe again - Maker, she wouldn’t be able to taste anything for weeks.

Roaring, Bull let out his amusement while Krem nodded knowingly.

 

“That was my first reaction once, too. You get used to it,” he said with another grin before swallowing another measure from his tankard.

Estelle couldn’t imagine drinking any more of it. It still set fire to her tongue - she could hardly speak. Yet the warmth of the alcohol spread in her stomach and seemed to lift the sorrows. Soon she agreed to another glass and then another. She laughed and sang with the others until much of the company lay in their stupors, snoring, and the singing ceased.

“I b-better... go to bed, too. I think.” Estelle slurred, swaying a little as she tried to rise. “We have business to do tomorrow.” A giggle then bubbled from her throat without knowing what made her laugh. Unsteady, she nearly fell when she staggered to the door.

“Be careful where you walk, Inquisitor.” Bull’s warning echoed after her, too loud in her head. “You impressed me with how much you could drink, but take it easy.”

Estelle nodded only to feel her head spin more. Skyhold’s cool air spilled around her when she stepped outside. It made her stop for a moment. All was dark, casting her sight into shadow while her vision blurred but Estelle hardly noticed.  

“Sparkle? Is that you?”

Estelle spun on her heel, nearly tumbling to the ground.

“Varric!” Her grin broadened, her pale tongue reaching out to lick her dry lips. “My most favorite of all dwarves. Oh, you brought your brother.”

Varric lifted an eyebrow.

“You are drunk,” he muttered even as he let out a chuckle. “So, what? Did Bull convince you to join his little feast. Andraste’s ass, how much did you have?”

Heavily, Estelle slumped down on the near stairs which led up to the castle.

“I don’t know? Two... _teen_?"

“You know, I remember a time Hawke was drunk like that, too. Was right after Kirkwall’s Chantry blew up. Couldn’t blame her. Drowning it all out seemed like a good idea at that point. She didn’t remember how she nearly danced naked on the tables until Fenris had to drag her out of there.” The dwarf waved a hand, his tone almost playful as he reached out to pat her shoulder. A writer’s eyes took note of widened pupils seeing past him. “You will not remember much of today either. But I’m glad you won’t start dancing on tables. Might undermine your status as Inquisitor. You might get some fans but authority... Nah, not the best idea.”

Her focuse narrowed, still giddy in her haze.

“You have pretty eyes.”

“And you _are_ drunk,” Varric said as he let himself slide next to her on the stairs.

Tilting her head back, Estelle stared up at the dark sky.Nothing but its vastness dotted in dim light greeted her, their softness better than the flickering flames of torches stabbing into her eyes.

“That makes me wonder... But nah... even I can’t sink that low to ask you questions you would never reply to while sober.” He sighed. “We better get you to bed.”

“My bed, yes, there it’s warm,” Estelle sighed. “Will you sleep there, too?”

“I doubt Curly would like that,” Varric laughed and rose. He turned as he heard approaching footsteps from the stairs above and he nodded up to the Inquisition’s commander. “Well, shit. Talk about him and there he is.”

With cautious steps, Cullen descended the stairs and looked at the two of them with a curious frown. He had been on his way to Estelle, to see if she had calmed down by now or if she was still in her grumpy mood. But then he had heard voices, one of which sounded alarmingly like a drunk version of Estelle.

“What happened here,” he asked as he saw Estelle drowsily rest her head on Varric’s shoulder.

“She celebrated with Bull and his Chargers-”

“She’s drunk.” Straight-faced, Cullen fought to hold himself tall as he tried not to laugh.

“Very much so, yes.”

The commander sighed but even he couldn’t hide the small smile tugging on his lips. Quickened boots brought him alongside them. Careful hands slipped around the Inquisitor’s waist, lifting Estelle up into his arms. She was sleeping and her head rested on his shoulder, lulled in the comfort of the bear fur draped around his shoulders. “I assume it’s best I get her to bed.”

“That’s a wise idea,” Varric agreed without an ounce of amusement, only a friend’s concern, “best before she says more things she is going to regret.”

Lost to his own ponderings, Cullen wondered if he should ask what she had said. Kindness decided against it. Right now, she slept peacefully. Let her get back to bed to have a chance to sober up until morning – before the guests arrived, Josephine’s warning still fluttering in the back of his mind.

 

Up in her quarters, Cullen gently slipped Estelle into her bed, the blanket draped over her before the windows clatted shut. As he reached to set his coat down, his ears twitched to the soft sound of Estelle mumbling. He frowned and returned to her side, kneeling next to the bed.

“No, Leliana would _never_... No, you lie! Cullen is safe...”

Calloused fingers curled hers. His mouth warm, he pressed a penitent kiss to her knuckles. Bad dreams. She had them sometimes just as he did. Whenever he couldn’t sleep himself, he had noticed that Estelle wasn’t better off. Whatever she had seen in the Fade haunted her in her dreams - he knew well how cruel demons could be.

Suddenly, her eyes opened. Bleary, they fixed him in their azure stare. Her face instantly lit up with a soft smile, a sleepy mutter falling from her lips: “Hey, gorgeous.”

Cullen smiled at her and reached for her cheek.

“I’m here, I’m fine. It was just a dream.”

“You are not mad at me?"

Even drowsy, he could not help but smile as she sought his forgiveness and his smile.

“For what?”

“I stole your shirt after your morning training... just to see you walk around without it for a moment longer,” she giggled.

“So, it _was_ you.” His laughter rattled in her ears, but that smile brightened the din. “And here I thought one of the women had picked it up to wash it for me. I guess I was hoping for too much.”

“I kept it,” Estelle muttered again, her voice muffled by her pillow and the taste of the night’s reverie. “It smells of you. I wanted to take it with me when I have to leave again... soon...”

“You wanted to take my sweaty shirt? You can be strange sometimes.” Chuckling, Cullen brushed a strand of hair from where it fell across her brow. He doubted the truth of her mumbled words had been something she hadn’t intended to tell him. Yet, he would keep it a secret that he held it close, unwilling to share that part of her with anyone else.

Sleep reached out instead and he knew no more of her uncensored thoughts, but still he smiled.  As he rose from her bedside, Estelle began to snore and his eyes crinkled with mirth.

“Alright, not everything about you is cute when you are drunk.” No sooner had his brevity fell from his mouth when Estelle shifted in her sleep, her snoring settling into silence. “Much better.”

 _One more report,_ he told himself as he made for her desk. _Then I’ll join you._

 

 


End file.
